


All I Want For Christmas Is You

by jade_maiden_333



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Destiel Advent Calendar, M/M, the gift of the magi adaptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade_maiden_333/pseuds/jade_maiden_333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story, <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/7256/7256-h/7256-h.htm">The Gift of the Magi</a>. It’s been only minimally adapted to fit a Dean!Cas trope. It’s just such a cute story, and the embodiment of fluff. If it has not yet been told as a Destiel fic, it darned well should be. If you’ve never read the popular Christmas story before, please do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my friend, beta and cheerleader [Powerfulweak](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Powerfulweak) for her help with this. She’s a true angel. Also,[Swlfangirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Swlfangirl) for her fabulous art. I'm a lucky lady!

Nine dollars and eighteen cents. That was it. All in coins. Working at the Gas ‘N Sip helped with the bills, but did nothing for padding his savings. After paying for all their apartment’s necessities, he was almost religious about taking every extra nickel, dime and quarter and tossing it into his savings jar. Castiel counted it three times. Nine dollars and eighteen cents. And tomorrow was Christmas.

Cas looked forlornly at his turntable. He trudged over the shelf of old albums and selected one of his favorites. Placing the album on the turntable, he let the needle settle on the first song. Ray Bryant’s unmistakable combination of blues and boogie piano lilted out of the speakers. After hours never failed to lift his spirits when he was down.And today he was down.

Cas stared at the door. Dean would be home soon. Winchester was what he was called at the auto shop where he worked. And Winchester was what he was called at the roadhouse where he tended bar. But here in their little flat, he was just Dean. Here he was the man that had finally given Cas a ring and his last name. And what did Cas have to give him in return?

Bupkis.

He heaved a sigh, and tried not to cry as he picked himself up off the threadbare sofa, ambling slowly across the living room. Cas leaned against the single dingy window, overlooking a decidedly dingier city, on yet an unfathomably dingy afternoon. Tomorrow was Christmas and he only had nine dollars and eighteen cents with which to buy Dean a present.

Cas had been saving for months, but his paycheck just didn’t go very far. Food, rent, netflix. These things don’t just pay for themselves. Only $9.18 to buy a present for Dean. His Dean. He spent hours thinking and planning for the perfect gift. Something nice and shiny-- something that came close to the joy Castiel felt at belonging to Dean.

Silence in the room pulled Castiel away from his worries. The turntable caught his attention again and he moved to pick another song to salve his melancholia.

He froze.

Staring at the vintage turntable, an idea sprung into his mind with amazing clarity. There were only two things in the Winchester household which held any great importance within its walls. Dean’s much loved amulet which had been given to him by his brother Sam. The other was Castiel’s record player. Had the King of Hell stood outside their window offering Dean immortality, he would have laughed at the demon, feeling the amulet around his neck and knowing that he wouldn’t trade it for a hundred more years. And all the angels in Heaven looked on in envy at the joy the couple got listening to music from the Crosley turntable every evening.

Cas gently removed the vinyl from the turntable, replacing it carefully into its jacket. He lowered the cover on the vintage player for the first time since the two of them moved in together. Their music held a lot of fun memories in the flat. He’d miss it.

Putting on his coat in the entryway, Cas saw a glimpse of himself on the wall mirror. He looked harried. His dark hair perpetually messy, blue eyes resolute, but a little sad. Moving before he changed his mind, he gathered the box in his arms and went out the door, down the stairs and into the cold gray afternoon.

Gabriel’s Music Store was just two blocks away. Cas entered into the small shop, doorbell tinkling.

“Hey, Cas!” the man said, smiling brightly. “What can I do you for?”

“I want to sell my record player. It’s a vintage Crosley.”

“Vintage, huh? Let’s take a look,” he said, examining the portable.“Nice. You must have loved her. She’s well cared for.”

“I do.” Cas replied, and then corrected. “I did.”

“Well, I’ll take her off your hands,” he thought for a moment. “I’ll give you seventy five bucks.”

“I’ll take it.” Cas answered quickly.

The next two hours were a blur for Cas.

He tore through the shops to find a present for Dean.

He finally found it. It could not have been more perfect had it been custom made. It was a beautiful antique bronze chain necklace. He tried on the chain himself while in the shop. The links were thin enough to hold the protective charm, but heavy enough to lay nicely against Dean’s chest. When he saw the price tag of seventy five dollars, he knew he had to have it.

Cas knew how important the amulet was to Dean and wearing it on that worn leather thong made him worry that Dean would one day lose it. Yes, strong bronze was just the thing. And it would look so good on him! Cas had seen him tucking the amulet away under his shirts too often. Something so striking should be seen by everyone.

When Cas got home to their flat, his excitement at finding the present gave way to a little doubt. The apartment was almost always filled with music, and now it was so quiet. “Maybe he won’t notice,” Cas said to himself. “Of course he will.” he berated. He dug through their closet until he found an old radio that he’d all but forgotten. He placed it on the kitchen table, turning it toward the door and turned it on, wincing at the burst of static. Only Top 40 came in clearly. The music wasn’t nearly as resonant. Everything sounded muted and tinny. “He’ll hate it,” Cas said aloud. “But what can I do? Who could buy a decent gift with $9.18?”

By dinner time, Cas had Dean’s favorite bacon burgers ready and waiting. He was taking the home fries out of the fryer when he glanced at the old kitchen clock on the wall.

Dean was never late. Cas held tightly to the bronze chain and took a seat at the kitchen table near the radio. He faced his chair toward the door so that he could see Dean the moment he walked in. Cas heard Dean’s footsteps on the stairs outside the apartment. As his husband’s footfalls approached the door, Cas had one final misgiving, and he whispered, “Please God, don’t let him hate the crappy radio.”

The man stepped into the room holding a paper shopping bag. His shoulders were slumped and looked exhausted. Cas’ heart broke for him. Dean worked so hard, two jobs and hardly a moment for himself. His clothes were careworn and his workboots had seen better days. And where was his jacket on such a cold day?

Dean stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw Cas. He looked at his husband, then he looked down at the radio. His eyes roamed the living room in the little apartment, searching. Then he looked back at his husband. Dean’s face was without expression, and cold dread flared in Castiel’s stomach. He didn’t know what to expect, but he wasn’t expecting this. Dean looked--what?

Just...weird. Cas launched himself at Dean, throwing his arms around him.

“Dean. Please don’t be angry. I sold my turntable to be able to buy you a Christmas gift.” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “I couldn't stand the thought of not finding a way to show you how much you mean to me. We’ll buy another, newer turntable one day, the radio will do for now.” Cas pulled away from the hug, searching Dean’s handsome green eyes. “Say something. Merry Christmas, Dean. Look at the beautiful present I got for you.”

“You sold the turntable?” Dean said, trying to make sense of Cas’ words.

“Yes, Dean. But we have the crappy...I mean, we still have a...pretty nice radio. There’s still music in the flat.”

Dean looked around the room as if he couldn’t believe what was seeing.

“Your vintage Crosley. It’s gone?” Dean asked weakly.

“Yes. I sold it to the music store down the street. It’s gone, but I did it for you. It’s Christmas eve, Dean,” Castiel said, brightening. “We might not have a record player anymore, but we can make our own music, right?” He tried waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

That broke Dean out of his fog. He pulled Cas back into his arms, planting heartfelt kisses all over his face. Dean and Cas stood in the kitchen holding each other and swaying to Taylor Swift’s latest. They didn’t give a wit for how much money they made. What they had together, money couldn’t buy.

Still holding Cas, Dean lifted the shopping bag that he was holding and placed it on the table.

“Make no mistake, Cas,” Dean said looking into those lovely blue eyes. “Music, no music, there’s nothing that you can do to ever make me love you any less. Ever.” he promised. “Take a look in the bag. You’ll see why you kind of threw me for a loop.”

Cas pulled a gift-wrapped box from the bag, watching as Dean blushed. The box was covered with wrinkled, blue wrapping paper emblazoned with rows of silver Stars of David. ‘Happy Bar Mitzvah’ was embossed between stars. “Sorry,” Dean shrugged. “It was all they had left.” Cas hid a laugh. Dean was always terrible at this, but seeing the ill-conceived wrapping was endearing nevertheless. Cas carefully tore open the package.

_Oh._

Castiel’s smile faded in understanding.

The man fought back tears as he revealed the box of vinyl albums. All rare, all Castiel’s favorite jazz artists. Miles Davis, Art Pepper, even an impossible to find Kenny Drew album. These had to take months to find. Dean must have been listening carefully to him talk about his music. But the turntable was gone.

Cas touched each one lovingly. He looked up at Dean, eyes brimming with tears. “These will sound great when we get that new turnable,” he swallowed thickly. “There aren’t words, Dean.”

Cas set the albums down and took Dean’s hands into his own. He gently placed the bronze chain in the man’s outstretched hand. “Don’t you just love it, Dean?” Cas said. “It took me a while to find the right one, but this will make your amulet look perfect,” he said. “Here, give me the charm so that I can put it on for you.”

Dean smiled sheepishly, sitting down at the kitchen table. “This is awesome, Cas,” he turned the chain over in his hands, admiring the feel of it. Cas stood behind him, hugging and nuzzling behind Dean’s ear.

“Let’s put this stuff away for now.” Dean said, wrapping the necklace around his hand. “We have all day tomorrow to look things over.”

“But, Dean--” Cas said.

“I sold my amulet to buy your albums.” Dean said quickly, looking up at Cas. Castiel stared back at him, dumbfounded. Dean pulled him close, leaning up for another kiss. He stood, gently pushing Cas gently into the chair. As Dean tried to walk away, Cas tugged him back.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together and heading over to the oven. “Are those bacon-burgers I smell? Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

 

_“The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.”_

\--O. Henry, from Gift of the Magi--

**Author's Note:**

> Like Cas, I’m a jazz listener, so John Coltrane, Dizzy Gillespie and Kenny Drew got a lot of air time while I worked on this.
> 
> At the end, I picture a camera pulling back from outside their dirty kitchen window as we see them ‘footloose dancing’ in their little apartment. 
> 
> Merry Christmas!!


End file.
